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<title>a wanderer (i roam around) by BannedBloodOranges</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22832164">a wanderer (i roam around)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BannedBloodOranges/pseuds/BannedBloodOranges'>BannedBloodOranges</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fallout 4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Brotherhood, Casual Relationships - Freeform, F/F, Mercenaries, Minutemen, Moment in time, post intimacy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 07:47:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>582</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22832164</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BannedBloodOranges/pseuds/BannedBloodOranges</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“They’re coming for you.” Ronnie wipes the grime from her face. “Did somethin’ bad, did ya?”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Female Sole Survivor/Ronnie Shaw</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>a wanderer (i roam around)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Non profit fun only.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"I gotta say," Shaw strikes up a cigarette. Their shared bed faces the ocean. In the foam, mirelurks circle, clicking at each other. "Last time we did this, you were a damn sight prettier, princess."</p><p>Nat rises, buckles up her jeans and tugs her heavy coat over her shoulders. Her face is blistered, scalded, where the Gatling lasers licked up her cheek and mouth. In the dirty sheen of the opposite mirror, she observes the opening of her cheek, the visible sinew of tooth and gum. </p><p>"Pretty doesn't get you anywhere," she mumbles, and Shaw laughs sharply.</p><p>“Pretty is what got you first into my bed, princess,” She says. The sheet falls as she gets up to go to the sink. She’s plain, old, body like stripped jerky. “Couldn’t believe my gnarly ol’ luck, to be honest. Gotta say, I can’t complain. I haven’t got any premium on beauty.”</p><p>Nat can already hear the grind of metal clad boots chugging through the mire. The squabble and call of rising voices, the fleeing of panicked locals. Her shotgun is holstered between her shoulder blades. Her battle coat, not tailored to her shape, hangs awkwardly on her shoulders.</p><p>“They’re coming for you.” Ronnie wipes the grime from her face. “Did somethin’ bad, did ya?”</p><p>“They haven’t found me yet.”</p><p>“You’re livin’ on burrowed time, woman. And you come here, to find me in my little backwater, what with that sweet-ass little reporter waitin’ for you back home?”</p><p>“I never asked her too.”</p><p>The outdoors shake with the warning growl of a minigun. They’re asking questions, jostling the farmers. A smirking man with dark glasses is shooing them in the opposite direction. </p><p>“They’ll find ya soon,” Ronnie buckles on her combat armour, tugs her beret over her shaved head. “I better get out there. Get those tinbuckets to cool their tits. A bit of friendly fire is not gonna be happenin’ on my watch, no sir!”</p><p>Nat throws the window open. The mireluks below inch up, startled. The ocean booms against the swirling rocks and she can catch the salt and radiation mingled together in a sea breeze cocktail. Shaw swears, levels her laser rifle to her hip. Shaw at the door, and Nat, by the window. Going separate ways, and the space between them yawns, gapes like silence between the breathless punch of a woman’s cry and the echo of a gunshot. </p><p>“Ronnie.” She says. Shaw turns back, a frown digging further lines into her cheeks. “You're a good person.”</p><p>“And you ain’t,” Shaw shoots back. “But you’re a damn good lay. I’ll keep ‘em back for you, and I don’t know how long I can stall, but you get out of ‘ere, and I don’t want to see ya from this time to Judgement day.”</p><p>“I think we already missed it,” Nat whispers, and at that, Shaw sighs and scoffs and rolls her eyes, and Nat kisses her, deep and quick, until Shaw’s laser rifle juts up painfully against her hip, pushing her off.</p><p>“Don’t undervalue ourselves now, with that poetic claptrap,” she sneers. “Why, them boys downstairs haven’t seen Judgement Day until they see ol’ Ronnie Shaw comin’ down to greet ‘em!”</p><p>She powers through the door with a swelling yell, loud and crude enough to pause the godawful clanking from outside, and Nat squats in the window frame, as the mirelurks arch their claws up toward the radium sky.</p><p>She jumps.</p><p>
  <em>and i’m a wanderer</em><br/>
<em>the type who</em><br/>
<em>never settles down</em>
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